


Rebuilding their Lives

by divagonzo



Series: Citrus Basket Series [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5260085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fighting ended a few weeks prior and for Ron and Hermione, they are starting to piece their lives back together. One of the first things is repairing the damage at the Granger residence, and maybe help solve their own problems, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebuilding their Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 Romione Smut fest on Tumblr. Prompt #3 - Hermione's Childhood bedroom. It’s a smutfest. There’s sex. But there’s also angst, strange behavior, first symptoms of insomnia and PTSD, and Ron’s still learning how to use his wand.

* * *

Hermione stood at the front door of the Granger residence. Aurors cleared it two days prior and they’d come the day before, with Harry and Ginny to survey the damage. The kitchen was in shambles and so was her parent’s office across the hallway. The worst was the upstairs bedrooms. Her parent’s room wasn’t so bad, just epithets scorched into the walls and furniture overturned in a maniacal zeal.

Her room was another matter. Ron was there to help her cope with her sterilized room. Everything important and vital was in storage yet there was enough left in there to appear that she still lived in it. The ones who came calling torched every single piece of antique furniture left, from the dresser and spare bed, including her desk. Then again, she outgrew the single bed when she was nine. 

Her double bed, the one she actually slept in, was upstairs in the attic. 

Harry and Ginny helped them bring it down and, with her helpful instructions, had it assembled in an hour. It’d have gone faster if Ron hadn’t been trying to piece it together backwards and upside down, much to Ginny’s mirth. 

Harry and Ginny stayed at the Burrow today. Molly was having a bad day so they agreed to stay home and take care of the cooking and chores that Molly wasn’t up to seeing to. They’d returned today to await delivery of the new stove and refrigerator, courtesy of Hermione’s post account. Replacing those items set her back some pounds but it was also a small price to pay with her Mum. Jean Granger would turn into a wronged Veela if she realized that her stove and oven were turned into a melted slag of steel and tempered glass. 

“Hermione, come eat!” 

She looked over the properly made bed in her room before descending the stairs to the kitchen. 

“Made you a sandwich while we wait.” Ron spoke with his mouth full of sandwich. He sat comfortably on one of the raised chairs in the breakfast room, motioning to a meal on his plate. 

“I’m not hungry, Ron.” Hermione glanced at the office and saw everything was back where she remembered all of it. 

“Sure you are. All you had tea and a slice of bread at breakfast. You must be famished.” 

Hermione turned on him, bright red in the face. “Quit telling me what I am and am not!” she yelled inches from his face. She stormed out of the room, ignoring the smells that still made her sick and went back to her bathroom to wash her face. A door slam didn’t make her feel better either. 

Dragon weight footsteps echoed up the stairs into her room. Ron beat on the door while Hermione ignored him. “Damn it, open the door!” 

“No!” she shouted through it. “Leave me be!” 

It was all too much. 

She settled into the corner to hide from the world. Everything was just too much: the fight with Molly four days prior that she couldn’t forget; the looks from Harry and Ginny that tore her heart out because she was showing weakness; Ron badgering her into eating when everything plated for her made her sick to smell it; the cost to repair the kitchen was so much and yet she didn’t know if it would suffice; the tickets to fly to Australia were outrageous. 

Would she have enough if they were there months, trying to track them down? 

Thoughts flew faster than Ron _Click_

“Hermione, I - “

Ron stopped when he saw her huddled in the corner of her bathroom, squeezed between the tub and the toilet, shaking violently. “Merlin, come here!” He sat down across from her and she crawled over the expanse of legs to his lap, squeezing his shirt under her fingers. 

“Sorry ‘bout that. I’m rubbish as a boyfriend. I know you’re trying.” 

“You’re not. Bad year, I reckon.” 

“So what can we do? You want me to handle downstairs while you rest?” He turned his wrist and saw the new to him watch he only took off for bathing or swimming, sleeping or shagging. “What time did the delivery people say they were coming?” 

“Today anytime between 1 and 5.” 

“It’s only half 1. I’m sure they will be delayed. Why don’t you rest and I’ll read to you?” 

She looked up from his worn Cannon’s tee shirt and shorts to see him looking at her. “You’ll read to me?” 

“Well, yeah. I can read, you know.” He pouted his slightly puffy lips. 

Hermione unwound from his lap and saw him sporting a stiffy already. “Sorry,” he blushed again. She walked out of the bathroom and he stood, pressing his hand onto his aching cock. “Not now,” he growled while thinking of many revolting images to tame the beast between his legs. He stepped through the doorway and saw her lying on top of the bedclothes, snuggled under the quilt that survived the Death Eater onslaught. 

“You cold?” 

She looked up from the book in her hand and gave him an eyeroll. “Of course I am,” she answered half-heartedly. “But if it was warm enough in here for me, you’d be in your skin.” 

Ron pulled his wand from his jeans and set a warming charm in the room. “I’d rather you be comfortable than being cold.” He peeled off his shirt and dropped his jeans before kicking off his grotty trainers and socks. “Now that’s better.” 

“Amazing,” she cheeked before throwing the quilt off of her. “I see that you’re still erect.” 

Ron looked down at saw his pants tented towards Hermione. “I see you in bed and I’m instantly hard. I can’t help it.” 

“Well, I could give you a better reason to be down to your pants.” 

“You don’t have to,” he looked away, much like he did when he was younger and embarrassed. “I wasn’t asking for a leg over. We’re waiting on the delivery guys.” 

“And I’m cold and you’re up for a shag and it’d be a terrible waste of time to not take advantage of you.” 

“And you’re mental. You were screaming at me ten minutes ago.” 

Hermione rolled off her bed and took a few steps to stand almost under his chin. “I was because you presumed to tell me what I was thinking and feeling. I don’t appreciate you telling me what to do.” 

“I’m just trying to help, Hermione. You barely eat and Merlin knows how you’re standing upright from how little you sleep. I’d be crashed on a flat surface while starving if I was trying to be like you right now.” 

She put an ink-stained finger in his chest and pushed him backwards towards her bed. He bumped instead into the wall next to the windows. “You think I like living like this, getting by on five hours of sleep that is interrupted twice with nightmares? Do you honestly think that I like eating so little because everything smells disgusting, even though I know it’s not true? Or that I’m not the woman I was last year?” 

Ron stood up from the bed, spreading his feet to his fighting stance. “Then quit fighting me and let me help you. I want to but you tear my bollocks every time I try to make some suggestion.” Ron pulled Hermione with him and sat down on the edge of the bed, letting her stand between his splayed knees. “I know the only times you even sleep is after I shag you at night. So let me help you, so you can get better, and stop biting my head off when I try to help.” 

“You really want to help?” Ron nodded energetically. “Then get a leg over so I can sleep an hour or two. That will help me so much right now.” 

“Here? Now? But the movers?” 

“You said it yourself. It won’t take long.” She grinned. “But at least kiss me first.” 

Ron put his hands on her hips and pulled him even closer. Her kiss was passionate, desperate, wanton even. She was immediately nipping at his lips, leaving sloppy kisses on his cheeks and neck. He easily reciprocated, pulling her jumper and vest away from her body to feel the skin under his calloused fingertips. “Love you,” he whispered into her skin before taking a nipple between his teeth. Ron lifted her clothes from her chest and watched the warm air dapple her skin in minuscule perspiration, coating her breasts in salty goodness. 

“Fuck, I missed you,” he muttered before working his hands into her skin. 

She slid the denim shorts off her still-thin hips along with the pastel green knickers down her legs. 

“Oh Fuck,” he growled when he saw her in only her skin, glowing from the warmth in the room. “Come here,” He begged before pulling her onto him on the bed. 

She willingly complied, letting him kiss her deeply while his hands roamed all over her body including delving the folds between her legs. She shifted so he could work a hand inside her willing flesh, groaning while he tried to drive her spare. 

It wasn’t working - at all. “Having trouble?” She looked down at him while his face was screwed up. 

“Well, fuck. One of these days, I’m going to get you off this way.” 

She shrugged again and gripped his cock in her small hands. “So we’ll keep trying again later.” 

She sat up tall on her knees and watched his penis stand up for her. “Take my pants off,” he begged. 

“Rather have you now,” she commanded before sliding down his length. She settled onto his hips and sighed. “Oh yes,” she purred further. She moved her feet, to give him a show and started rocking up and down his length. 

“Oh that’s bloody hot,” he growled before putting his hands on her breasts, tweaking the nipples hard while she bounced harder on his hips. 

“Fuck, it’s not enough,” Ron complained. “You need two more stone for this to feel wicked.” 

“Sure it is,” she retorted. “and two stone? You’ll have me fat as - “

He rolled his hips and flipped them over, leaving his pants covered arse hanging in the air. He pulled her legs wider, to make room for his hips and started pounding her into the mattress. “Better?” 

“Ron,” Hermione started. “I need,” she couldn’t finish her thought. 

“You will, this time,” he lifted her hips and thrust wildly. “Damn it, come for me,” 

“I’m trying. It’s not happening.” She pulled her short nails across his back and squeezed his hips with her thighs. 

“Shite,” he growled when the band in his bollocks snapped hard. “No, damn it, Hermione,” he bellowed in her room.Vile epithets dripped from his lips before he fell face-first into the bedclothes. 

“Ron, it’s OK.” 

“Not it isn’t, damn it. I want you to get your rocks off too!” 

“It’s only been three weeks.” 

_Ding, Dong_

“Fuckin’ hell,” Ron growled before pulling the pillow over his head. “Why do they show up now?”

Hermione jumped out of the bed and threw on her knickers and shorts, followed by her bra and jumper. “I dunno either. I wasn’t expecting them for another hour.” She silently cast a cleansing spell on her since they were out of time before thumping down the stairs to the door, leaving Ron in her bed, sweaty and beastly because he couldn’t make her come – again!


End file.
